I try to push back the thoughts rippling through my mind. Taking a deep breath, I know I’m going to have to confront the reality that’s just smacked me in the face. Glancing at my watch, I realize I don’t have a lot of time before I have to either go to Luxor or call off, and I need to talk to Huxley.
“Barrett? I really need to go. I need to talk to Huxley, call the police station, and then decide if I’m going to work tonight or not.”
“Why do our lives feel so separate?” His voice is so lonely that it makes my heart hurt. “I want to take you with me tonight. I want to be able to see Huxley and make sure he’s okay too.”
“He will be. I’ll make sure of it,” I whisper. “I’ll tell him you asked about him.”
“I’ll call you later?”
The way he asks it instead of states it hurts.
“Yes. Please call me later.”
“Okay. Talk to you soon, baby.”
“Bye, Barrett.”
Alison
“YOU’RE SURE YOU’RE OKAY? ARE you worried or scared or—”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Hux replies, rolling his eyes awhile later. “I’m not a baby. And the guy just took my picture. You’re kind of making a big deal out of this.”
I mess with his hair as he ducks away, his nose buried in the book he’s reading. “They arrested the guy. He’s in a lot of trouble.”
He doesn’t act like he even cares.
“If you want me to stay home tonight, I will.”
He peers at me over his book with a smile on his lips. “Will you please go so I can read in peace?”
“It’s a good thing you’re cute,” I laugh, lifting up from his bed. “Grandma will take you to her house in a little bit, okay?”
He nods but doesn’t look up. Laughing and saying a prayer of thanks that he doesn’t seem to mind the drama of the day, I head into the kitchen. My mom looks at me from the kitchen table.
“You okay?” she asks.
I shrug. “I think so. Hux seems okay about it. I just . . . this is what I was afraid of, you know?”
“I do. That’s because you’re a good mom and you want to protect your boy. But you can’t protect him from everything, Alison.”
“I know that,” I scoff. “But am I asking for trouble? Am I putting him in a position I’ll regret?”
She crosses her arms over her pale green sweater and tilts her head. “Do you feel like you regret this?”
I start to tell her I don’t know, that I haven’t had time to think it through, that my head is still spinning like a top and I don’t know what in the world is going on, but my phone rings.
It’s Barrett.
“Hey,” I say, holding it to my ear.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Okay,” I say, shooting my mom a look and leaving the room. “What’s up?”
“First, how’s Huxley?”
I smile. “He’s fine. Acts like a little champion.”
“Good,” he says, blowing out a breath. “I have this fucking Gala tonight and I have a million things to do before then. But there’s a story that will probably be breaking sometime tonight or tomorrow, and I wanted you to hear it from me.”
I force a swallow past the lump the size of an avocado in my throat.
This day just gets better.
My hand grasps the back of a chair and I brace myself. “What kind of story?”
Something bangs in the background, possibly a glass on a table. My brain focuses on it instead of his words because it’s easier to digest. “There’s another girl saying she’s pregnant by me.”
“What?” I yelp, my chest caving in, the room spinning.
“It’s not mine, Alison.”
“Are you sure? Who is she? I. . . .”
“Her name is Lacy McKay, a girl I used to see off and on. I haven’t been with her in months, so this baby isn’t mine.” His voice is so cool, so clinical, that I don’t know how to process it.
I fall onto the sofa, squeezing my eyes shut. Taking a deep breath and blowing it out, all I can do is laugh a sad, resigned chuckle.
“This is an easy fix,” he hisses. “I’ll take a paternity test when the kid gets here and prove it isn’t mine.”
“But until then? What if it is?”
“Alison—it’s not. She asked for a sizable check this afternoon. She just wants money.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m not paying her for shit because it’s garbage. What can she do? Go to the tabloids? And then what? Find out the baby’s not mine when it’s born and she’ll look like the bitch she really is?”
I try to clear my head and keep my wits about me when I really want to run into my room and cry. My life a few hours ago was exactly where I wanted it to be. How quickly things can change.
He blows out a breath. “Look, she doesn’t think I’ll call her bluff. She thinks I’ll pay her off and she can ride into the sunset or I will profess my undying love to her. I don’t know. But neither option is happening.
“Oh, Barrett,” I say, feeling sick. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me fucking too.” He clears his throat, his voice softening but not losing the sharpness. “I have to go get ready for this thing. Can I call you tonight? It’ll be late. This thing goes on for fucking ever.”